


Spot My Mojo Working

by AlluringMary



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Bad Puns, Bisexual Character, Crack Relationships, Crack Treated Seriously, Episode s07e13 Field of Fire, F/F, F/M, For the title I mean I'm sorry, M/M, Minor Character(s), No Gendered Pronouns for the Reader, Other, Sexuality Crisis, There's an implied romance in between Spock and McCoy but I didn't want to put it in the tags, gender neutral reader
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-02
Updated: 2020-09-02
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:28:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26250436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlluringMary/pseuds/AlluringMary
Summary: Your great-grandfather had lived long enough to see you graduate from preemptive Medicine courses as a teenager and receive a mock combadge from Starfleet Academy. When he had pinned the latinum replica to the front of your shirt, the Admiral had mournfully said, "You're gonna be pining for one of those hobgoblins one day and you're going to live to regret it, I just know it."You didn't think the old bastard would be proven true so damn quickly.Or, in which your ex is found out to be a serial killer but you're too busy pining for a different alien to truly care.
Relationships: Chu'lak/Reader (Past), Ezri Dax/Reader
Comments: 1
Kudos: 3





	Spot My Mojo Working

**Author's Note:**

> HC: Reader is McCoy's descendant and apparently fucking Vulcans runs in the family. That does also imply that Dax was involved with the reader's great-granpa so yeah
> 
> And I need more wlw Ezri content DAMNIT

Perhaps it had been the loud music, the animated chatter from Morn and other patrons at the bar or the dabo wheel going crazy but somehow you didn't think you'd heard her correctly.

“Excuse me?” You supplied when Dax stole glances to her left, “You want me to act as bait? What if I end up dead and bloody in my quarters afterwards? Will you give a good eulogy at my funeral?”

She seemed to shrug off your words, pointedly not taking her eyes off you now. “I know how this sounds but Odo and I are sure we have the key suspects straightened out.”

“Let's say you do, for the sake of our friendship, what guarantees me you'll know when to intervene so I may live to see another day? Better yet, how do I know you aren't the serial killer and you're just trying to get me--”

“Not this again!” Ezri's fingers danced along the table's surface and the padd laying face down by her hand, whatever sound her nails made dampened by the ambient noise. “Listen, I know this is scary, mortifying even. But you only have to do one thing, one thing and that's it.”

You nursed your synthehol in your hands, the moisture from the glass coated your palms. Doubtful, you repeated, “One thing? Really?”

The Trill nodded, “Really. Do you remember that Tellarite ambassador you were tasked with a few months ago?”

You brought the drink to your lips and grimaced, “Tlirn Lollak. She may yet be the worst person I've ever met. I still think it was unfair assigning me to her, she was the worst possib--”

“Yes, yes.” She batted her hand as if to physically dismiss your scorn for the woman. As she began speaking once more, you wondered how much this investigation had worn her down. “I'm sure you remember what she said about your laugh right?”

“So does half the promenade.” You were still sour about it, with a hot flash of irritation you remembered her words clear as day. _“This must be the most inelegant sound ever uttered in all the galaxy_. God I wish I could have come up with a good comeback then!”

“And when she said that, she was talking about your laugh right?” The counselor pressed, latching on to your dreadful bout with the diplomat. “She said it was grating and unnerving?”

“Yeah, thanks for the reminder. I'd almost forgotten.”

“What if I told you other people think so too?” And after your jaw slackened and you pinned her with a wide-eyed hurt look, she added, “Don't take it the wrong way! Your laugh's very... unique, it's just that our list of suspects contain a few individuals who think otherwise.”

Slowly you swallowed your pride and Gorn meridor. “Unless my ex from ShiKahr just so happens to be on that list of yours then I don't think anyone will call my laugh unique.”

“ShiKahr, you say? Isn't that a Vulcan region?”

“Province actually, I was stationed in the city for a few months. Let me tell you, Cochrane made the worst choice of his life launching that shuttle when he did. If he'd just waited an hour--”

Hurriedly, she asked, “Was it a man?”

“...Zephram Cochrane?”

“Your ex!”

“Yeah, why?”

“Well it could be nothing but... There's a Vulcan man who served in ShiKahr on that list, I thought that perhaps you could be the thing linking the murders together.”

“What!?” You splutter, bringing down your glass with far more force than necessary. “You don't think I killed them!”

“Not so loud!” Ezri berated you, leaning over the table's edge to hiss at you. Her eyes snapped to your side, you looked over but found just an empty adjacent table. Her lips moved but you heard nothing come out.

“Ezri, what on Earth is going on?” She looked agitated, far more jumpy than usual. Despite you repeating yourself a few times, she made no move to answer you. Exasperated, you snapped your fingers in her face. She jumped, sitting straighter in her seat and said in the same breath, “I can't do that!”

Now more confused than ever, you said, “Alright, you have to tell me what is wrong with you.”

Her face grew red, and the usual sea-calm blue of her eyes turned tempestuous. “Why does something have to be wrong with me? Just because I don't want to listen to your pointless complaining about everything and anything? Or it is because you can't handle not having attention taken away from you? Three people are dead. I don't exactly have the time to make small talk.”

Some deity was looking over you, for sure, because only a handful of patrons turned to look in mild interest at the outburst. Mortified, but yet not deterred, you steeled yourself. “Ezri. I don't know what the hell came over you but for the sake of our... your investigation, I'd like to be sure you can actually carry it out.”

She breathed out and lowly said, “I have come to the conclusion that whoever the killer is, they despise all forms of emotions.”

“That's why your list's full of Vulcans?” You were largely unconvinced. “They wouldn't butcher you over a smile.”

“This one does. That's why I need your help and your, huh, laughter.”

“Because I would annoy them to the point they'd rather murder me than ignore me?”

“I have enough reason to think our killer's mentally, or rather emotionally, unstable. If a smile or frown could set them off, I'm sure you'd make a perfect target.”

“Do you have any proof that the victims were acquaintances or even met any of the Vulcans?”

Ezri deflated a little bit, “No, I think you might be the closest thing I have to a clue.”

You nodded, the past blow of hurt still burning in your breast, “Well if you tell me the name, I'm sure we can strike me out at least.”

The padd beeped softly while its screen powered up, her eyes roved along it and stopped dead after a few seconds. “Lieutenant... I don't think I can pronounce his last name.”

“Never understood why their first names roll of the tongue way easier, huh.”

She spared you a chuckle, her shoulders loosening just so. Unfortunately her next words cut deep. “Lieutenant Chu'lak, about a hundred years old, of the S'Lara region. He's been assigned to the station about three months ago but before that--”

“He was assigned to the USS Grissom for a little over a decade and about four years ago, he was temporarily stationed in the ShiKahr province to conduct preliminary tests involving the terra-forming of a nearby H-class planet.” A long suffering sigh fought its way out of you, “What a small quadrant we live in.”

“You know him.”

Promptly deciding you would need it, you downed the reminder of the blue synthehol. The liquid burned as it slid down your throat. “Like I said, small quadrant.”

“He's your ex... Him?”

“Yes, him.”

She set down the padd, her mouth agape. Her demeanor quickly morphed into pure shock and her tone shifted to morbid curiosity. “He's basically a hundred years old.”

“Yes, believe it or not, I happen to know that.”

“That means he had a mate by the time you two were together!” Ezri sniped, “You still slept with him?”

“You know Vulcans look twenty by the time they turn sixty! I didn't know at first and it's not like he offered up much information about having a wife and children.” You ached for another glass, you gestured to the nearest waiter with a wave of your hand, you'd been hoarding slips of latinum for far longer than necessary. “You sure you don't want anything?”

Positively red in the face, she shook her head before burying her face in her hands so only the extremities of her spots peeked from under her fingers. “Oh Stars.”

“And you want me to go up to him and laugh in his face? Well if he's the murderer, I'm sure you'll find me stuffed in a jefferies tube somewhere on the habitat ring.”

“Well, bad relationship aside--what did he seem like to you?”

The Ferengi placed the small glass in front of you, before the cold rim touched your lips, you sneered. “Like a doubletiming, backstabbing leech with no notion of self-respect and no consideration for those around him.”

Her groan turned mournful, “This isn't helping.”

“Neither did his mate barging in during the CMO's morning round because she could _sense an odd presence in their bond_ but it still happened!”

//

Your great-grandfather had lived long enough to see you graduate from preemptive Medicine courses as a teenager and receive a mock combadge from Starfleet Academy. When he had pinned the latinum replica to the front of your shirt, the Admiral had mournfully said, "You're gonna be pining for one of those hobgoblins one day and you're going to live to regret it, I just know it."

You didn't think the old bastard would be proven true so damn quickly.

//

“I find it strange you haven't even seen him in the three months he was here, that's all.” She hushed you in the turbolift while you griped about that damned space elf. “I know you spent the last weeks on Bajor for reinforcements to their clinics but even then you'd have at least caught a glimpse of each other.”

“My ancestors were watching over me, but now? Now they're laughing.”

“I'm sure they are.” She said and despite your disastrous mood and buzz from the strong replicated liquor, you noticed the pointed look she reserved for the emptiness of the lift. So far, you'd noticed her do this three times and explicitly address the void next to her.

“Hey, from a friend to another, can I ask you something?” You proceeded when she returned her attention to you, “Why do you keep turning like that? I've even seen you talking to yourself in the middle of the promenade since the murders started. Don't tell me this is your MO, get defenseless 'fleeters good and drunk and--”

“You're confusing yourself,” She seemed exasperated, the change of mood dragging the corners of her pretty lips down. It didn't suit her, you noted, a knot tightening inside your chest. You liked her better when she smiled, when her eyes weren't dulled by fatigue, when her forehead bore no crease brought upon by your confusion. The warmth that had flooded your chest with the meridor dulled with the realization. She cleared the tension, “What was your point?”

“Yeah, right, huh. I'm worried and... You should talk to me, whenever you need. I'd like to know what's wrong.”

Ezri's head pivoted ever so slightly to the right before she quickly zeroed in you once more. “Other than the fact that three bodies are held in cryostatis for collection?”

“You know what I mean,” You pressed, the turbolift lurching into order, “I'm worried about you, your eyes are red and your face is so drawn. Not that, you don't look beautiful-- It's just... have you even slept since this all began?”

Ezri didn't answer for a moment, although a lovely shade of pink dusted her cheeks. “Not properly.” She admitted although she straightened her shoulders soon after, “I was just next door when Ilario was shot, he even tried to get me to stay.” Where mirth should dance in her eyes, there was only regret. A pang of hurt stabbed you in the heart. You didn't like seeing her like this. “I refused and yes, I know that feeling guilt is normal and nothing I could have possibly done would have changed something but... I'll feel better when I know the killer has been caught.”

Before you could conjure up more than some dry comforting platitudes, the turbolift came to a stop and a teal-colored neck strolled in. Or at least, as much as a Vulcan could stroll.

Realistically, you knew the Vulcan people were touch telepaths and no information could be exchanged without the presence of a link or mating bond yet during the short moment you realized who it was standing in front of you, you felt the once exotic and pleasurable jolt of electricity that would course through your body whenever the two of you touched dance over your skin. Memories of sweet moments spent lazing away in sun-scorched plains and arid mountain ranges fought their way back to the forefront of your mind.

Ezri cowered at your side, you kept your mouth shut for now, waiting for him to speak first. Wordlessly, he resumed his course and stood in the opposite corner of the 'lift. He then spoke his section of the habitat ring and, obediently, the machine broke into an ascent. Only then, did he turn towards you, cold brown eyes dancing in between you and Ezri. "Ensign. Counselor."

Unwisely, you quipped, "Chu'lak... You've aged horribly."

"Such a crude display of emotions is unbecoming, even for you."

As if running a knife down into the taut rope the atmosphere had become, the Trill carefully greeted, "I'm Counselor Dax."

He maintained your stare, "I know." And then after raising a dark eyebrow, said, "Meridor never suited you."

You remembered he had been quite happy when your blue-tinted tongue had snaked down his joined index and middle fingers. You remembered still his sharp intake of air, the delicate quiver of his fingers on your tongue--Chu'lak had seen no problem with your consumption then. Unnerved, you retorted, "How would you know? Did you decide to care in between two affairs?"

"Hey now..." Dax gently tried to part the two of you, a small part of you begged for you to listen to her calming voice, her attempts at soothing. But this minority of you was quickly stifled, smothered and locked away.

"Our relationship was _ukhru-vishan_ ," He merely stated, ignoring the small woman in between you two. "A certain degree of respect exists between us."

There was no respect to be shown the last time you'd been in the same room, with the cold stare of a Vulcan woman resting on you both. The engineering gold of her uniform's shoulders was still engraved in your mind, so were the next authoritative demands she made after husband dearest made some clarifications about the nature of your compromising tryst. Nevertheless, you felt no anger towards her. "That wasn't what your wife called it, no?”

“I recall harsher words not currently suitable--”

“And respect?” You reveled in the annoyed furrow of his brow at being interrupted, “Did you show the same degree of respect to your mate? I pray she's found her mind and went her own way."

"T'Vaal passed three months ago, I still yet nurse great respect for her.” His words sent a spike of chill down your spine. Any witty comebacks died in your throat while the weight of your past snide remarks rested on your tongue. Ezri visibly winced at this new information but kept a cool gaze on Chu'lak.

You took a deep breath, shaking your head. First semester of Introduction To Federation Species had stated in no uncertain terms that the loss of a mate to Vulcans was sure to be painful and a bond broken by the passing of a mate could weigh on a Vulcan for years to come. You felt not only ashamed but foolish. “I'm sorry.”

The turbolift stopped, its doors opening wide. It was his stop. Before the doors closed behind him, he raised a dark eyebrow and bizarrely asked, “Whatever for?”

The machine resumed its course to level 5 and you felt a mass nestle close to your heart before dropping down into your stomach. After a long moment of awkward silence, you uttered, “I'm such an idiot. The Grissom was destroyed and I knew his mate was on board! What prompted me to say that?”

As if she hadn't heard you speak, Ezri talked over the end of your sentence, calling the turbolift to a halt. “You should go back to Quark's.”

“I'm tipsy and I have a shift in six hours, I shouldn't even be awake right now.”

“Listen to me.” And her firmer tone made you freeze, “You can't go back to your quarters right now, you need to stay in a public place.”

“The Replimat closed two hours ago and Quark's will in less than an hour--and I need to sleep. Dr. Bashir will have my head if I show up half-drunk tomorrow!”

Her hands clasp your shoulders, firmly shaking you. “I need you to go to Ops, or the infirmary, got it? Go somewhere with people around, don't stay alone.”

“Zee, you're running yourself thin. Come on--”

“Stars! Chu'lak is a potential suspect and he has a motive against you, you can't stay alone in your quarters with that big a risk.”

“You can't really suspect him, Chu'lak's harmless. Even if I went up to him now and called him a _goblin_ , he wouldn't hurt me.”

“Shut up!” The sudden burst of aggression on her voice quieted you, you were left gaping as her breath grew labored, “You're an ensign, I'm a lieutenant and I'm ordering you to stay in a public place until I have resolved this investigation. You're going to obey my orders as your superior officer, now do you understand?”

Sobered, you nodded and hardly made a noise when she escorted you back down to the promenade and threw you to the waiting arms of a Bajoran night watch nurse. Zaze, with her creased nose and nigh omnipotence, only asked when she sat you in front of a console, “I don't suppose that means you've, as you humans say, 'manned up' and asked her out?”

Miserable in front of the bright computer screen and nursing a too-sweet raktajino, you groaned, “Oh hush up.”

You can hear her snort and the irregular beeping of a nearby computer when Zaze returns to her duties. “You know Bashir will tear into you when he sees the circles under your eyes.”

What she had as an answer to her rib was a groan and nothing else. Sipping away at the coffee, you try and focus on the work you put on hold earlier that day, tracking the molecular disintegration of a Bajoran tulip's globular head under samples of new insect repellent formulas. This work, you could have easily concluded in a peaceful, sun-basked agricultural lab on the edge of the greenish waters of the Yolja. It would have had the added bonus of being on dry, merciful land, far away from the front lines, from the looming threat of both Dominion and Cardassian ruthless forces and the dead dark eyes of an ex Vulcan fling.

The war had worked you thin, just a month on Bajor had been pure bliss, like breathing in deeply after being stuck in a shut-in house with stale air. You'd miss the planet, maybe one day when it joined the Federation--not if--you'd ask for an extended assignment there, working on easy agricultural projects. Unbothered, happy and... living with a pathetic lack of Ezri in your life.

Zaze sweetly patted you on the shoulder when she saw you slack off and religiously offered you new cups of caffeine when yours ran dry.

It happens a few hours later when you're bent over a centrifuge spinning about extracts palukoo venom to ready them for experimentation when Ezri's sweet voice rings out--“Medical emergency in Habitat ring, level 5 section K2.”

“We're on our way! Ensign.” Zaze says, slinging a standard medkit over her shoulder. Wordlessly, you activate a stasis containment field around the experiment and ready your own pack, hurrying off to follow Zaze outside of the infirmary and into the turbolift. Gingerly you steel yourself for any grisly discovery--you've had the chance to avoid any autopsies so far. You hope for the sight of a skinned knee, a mild stab wound with a fork, a first degree burn on the hand, a birth even, so long as there's not another corpse laid sprawled limply on the ground with their skin sinking in, their cells degrading, their blood rushing down with gravity...

When you emerge from the turbolfit and run off towards the mentioned section, it takes just a moment to find the quarters. What you find behind the doors however, stops you dead in your tracks, your hand stuffed inside your half-opened medkit, fingers tight around your medical tricorder. There, amid a splatter of green blood is Chu'lak.

He gasps out words in the untranslated L'Sara dialect, his shoulder's pinned to the ground, blood gushing form the wound. You're thrown forwards when Zaze bumps into you, walking in behind you. The momentum forces you into action and, suddenly you find yourself kneeling, uncaring of the blood or the nature of the man you lean over.

He gnashes his teeth while you two maneuver him around, Zaze runs the detachable sensor node of the tricorder over the wound. She says, “Projectile wound, fresh, he's been hit in a minor artery but he's losing blood fast.”

Faintly, you can feel the rapid beat of his heart against your knee. Somehow, you manage to tear your eyes from your own readings and reach for a hypospray. Your gaze does not deviate from the bronze skin of his neck, “I'm injecting you with 5 ccs of triptacederine, it will ease the pain.”

Zeza, who's stopped in her attempt to regenerate the gaping in the shoulder, gasps. You intend to spare her a glance at most, but your eyes land on what she's ogling in horror--a rifle, dangling from one delicate pale hand.

It can't be! is your first thought, but before you can voice it, Ezri sidesteps you both, backing out of the quarters. Both Zeza and you sit still, waiting for yet another reversal but the fear on Ezri's face is real, so's the shaking of her grip around the TR-116 rifle. Stuttering, and her step faltering, she says, “I'll contact security.”

The doors close with their usual quiet thrum, Zeza as if running on auto-pilot, turns back over Chu'lak, running the dermal generator over the blood-soaked hole in his uniform. The drug's made him bleary-eyed, his speech slurred but he fights unconsciousness still. Quickly, you say, “We need to get him to the infirmary, have you gotten his blood type?”

“S positive,” She replies, preparing for the transport. She taps her comm badge, requests a site to site transport from Ops.

“I'll rejoin you back in the infirmary.”

“But--”

“Ops, requesting emergency transport to infirmary.”

You walk out, you run out rather once the sound of the transporter starts in the quarters. Following the faint noise of Ezri's boots on the carpet, you advance through the corridors, never able to contain your disappointment when she isn't there the next time you round a corner. You don't have a phaser, you realize, it's too much of a security hazard than it is a defensive weapon in your hands--but God, what you wouldn't give to have one in the palm of your hand. Your heart's hammering inside of your chest.

You find her walking away into the section K-13 as indicated by the computer. The rifle dangles from one of her hands, her gait is uneasy as if she's been hurt herself. Faintly you can hear her voice. She's talking to the empty space around her again.

Before you can think this through, you say, “You're doing it again.”

Ezri whips around, jostling the weapon as she does. Dumbly, she stutters when she asks, “What are you doing here?”

Good question, actually. You swallow. “I was worried about you.” Again you can see her turn her head towards the emptiness around you. This section is deserted, you know that. “Is there someone here? Talking to you?”

She tenses and you know your suspicions were right all along. “What are you talking about?”

“I heard. I mean I researched it. Sometimes Trills with joined symbionts can communicate with past hosts. But i didn't think that was it. You'd need another person to let a past host come forward.” Ezri doesn't say anything, but keeps her eyes trained on you. You feel a pinch in your chest. “It's Joran, isn't it?”

Ezri fights hard to school her features but fails, “You think I killed them.”

“I should.” Her lips purse up. “But I don't. I know you better than that.”

“If you think I'm innocent then you should go back and patch that murderer up. Unless you still feel guilty about dumping him?”

“This isn't about Chu'lak. I'm worried about you.”

She huff derisively. “And why would you be?”

“Because I love you!” As soon as the words are out of your mouth you regret them. She's gone silent and while her face is positively red, you know you screwed up.

A few seconds pass in anxious silence. “Is this... some sort of joke?”

There's a good opportunity to back down. Maybe it's the four meridors, the three raktajinos or the sticky green blood on your hands and uniform that made you so bold. “No. I'm... sorry?”

“You're sorry?” Ezri blinks, now holding the rifle with only one hand while she spreads her arm in astonishment. “What are you even saying?”

Even while your stomach cramps up, you find the strength to respond. “I'm saying I love you and I'm sorry for making this awkward!”

“You're lying.” She attempts to rationalize. “You've only ever dated men before, you've just broken up with that Vedek guy--”

You protest, “That was half a year ago!”

Still Ezri shrieks, “You only like men!”

“Clearly I don't!”

“Stop yelling!” The Trill finally snapped back to reality even as her skin glowed red, “You'll wake the whole section!”

“That's what I'm sorry for... Also!”

Stupidly you run a hand over your face, immediately regretting doing so when a bitter, metallic taste blooms on your tongue. Right, blood. And you're soaked in it.

“I... I shot him, you know.” Ezri began, “You should have seen his eyes in the turbolift. He looked at you like you meant nothing, it was all in his eyes. As if there was nothing behind them.” She adjusts her grip on the rifle and doesn't budge when you walk closer to her. “And then, while I tracked him... I was so scared he wouldn't target me.”

A shiver ran along your spine, the thought alone of being spied on with an invisible weapon trained on you...

She continued, “He was considering it,” She took a deep breath. “I saw him in his quarters, I knew he was ready to fire.”

“But I wasn't alone.” You slowly put the pieces together, “You saved my life.”

Tears welled in her eyes, you were so close her whisper sounded deafening, “I was so afraid...”

You're scared to touch her, you don't want to dirty her with his blood. She's too dear to you for this. Yet you feel if you don't cup do it now, you never will. Slowly, you cup her cheek, wiping away a few stray tears with your thumb.

“You meant it?” Her hand comes to caress your wrist, she searches your face with her eyes. “That you... you love me?”

Somehow you manage to speak through your heart lodged in your throat, “I did. I do.”

She's so close, you can see the flutter of her eyelashes on her cheeks, feel her breath on your lips. The want becomes an urge too powerful to ignore, before you can give it much though; you surge forward and catch her lips in a kiss.

The kiss is uncertain at best. The press of your lips feel quite one-sided and breaks as quickly at it began. Before you can withdraw, Ezri seizes the back of your head and pulls you into a more open, second kiss. Through the haze, you feel the body of the rifle hitting your thigh and let your hands follow the trail of spots on her face. Her lips part and you welcome her when she snuggles into your chest.

Parting feels wrong, even when your eyes blink open and you see the odd finger shaped splatter of green blood on her face--you can't reason letting her go. Ezri's eyes are so open then, yet observant.

As she draws invisible patterns upon your cheek with her fingers, you snap back to the current situation. Your new girlfriend (you hope, Oh Stars you desperately hope) sees the shock draw on your face. “What is it?”

“I left Zaze alone with Chu'lak!” You all but scream. With another heartbeat, you wrench yourself away from the vision standing in front of you. You slap your palm to your combadge. “Security! I need men to the infirmary immediately!”

“Come on,” Ezri says, taking your hand in hers and starting down the hallway. “I'll watch your back!”

While your stomach rolls with waves upon waves of butterflies, you remain wordless and in pure shocked silence, follow her lead through the winding corridors.


End file.
